I can think of younger days…when eating like I do would have been unimaginable. As a kid, I was a bit fussy. I actually hated the texture of lasagna.

Now I’m in Capitol Hill at Altura, where Nathan Lockwood serves up seasonal Italian cuisine in the form of multi-course tasting menus. I happily leave myself to the mercy of this cooking maestro.

I enjoy an extravagant feast, including a chance to share all five pasta offerings with my dining partner. Each one is fantastic, boasting unique flavors. With a mission to incorporate locally foraged and grown ingredients, including some from his own garden, Lockwood impresses me with an assortment of herbs and peppers–some spicy–in many of his dishes. Most surprising to this non-gnocchi fan: My favorite dish of the night is the potato pasta, texture simply terrific, topped with a rich Abruzzese ragu of lamb and beef.

Perhaps most intriguing is the tagliatelle. This ribbon-like pasta is served with fried garlic and fried parsley, lubricated with olive oil, and then showered with cured tuna heart shavings. The flavor of the heart is dark and mineral-rich, like the ocean splashing itself on the dish sparingly and yet assertively.

So what does Altura’s tagliatelle teach us about sex?

It’s all about picking up the pieces of a broken heart.

Lockwood hits the tagliatelle with tuna heart just before sending it out to the diner, the shavings dropping from a Microplane grater like tears falling from the eyes of a teen suffering a first break-up.

How do you mend a broken heart? It should start with tears, as it’s okay to be sad. Mourn, but also breathe and be confident knowing you’ll eventually get through the sadness. Reach out to family and friends, find distractions, and take care of yourself. Exercise. Rediscover things you like to do, and discover new things as well.

Don’t blame yourself for failure. And don’t feel compelled to find a replacement for the person who’s gone. Learn the difference between being alone and being lonely.

About Jay

Jay Friedman is a freelance food writer and gastronaut—global explorer of things gourmet and, well, not-so-gourmet. Born and raised in New York (and missing those back-east bagels), Jay says he came to Seattle in 1999 because "there's great produce here." He’s dabbled in classes at Cornell University’s School of Hotel Administration, taken cooking classes around the world, cooked as a Vermont inn-sitter, worked as a waiter, and evolved into an omnivoracious eater.